The Emperor's Children
by WargishBoromirFan
Summary: Post-Promised Day, a Xingese storyteller attempts to shed light on the emperor's perspective on Ling and Mei's quest, as well as offer a riddle for the next generations.


**A/N: Can't even claim the storyteller, here, though I have to dedicate this to my own great-grandfather, his seven daughters, and the rest of the Y. clan that we have to pull out multiple calculators to try to keep track of... **

"There once was an emperor," the grandfather started, stroking his long straight beard in so overdramatic a manner that a few of his young listeners began giggling already, "who had so many children by so many wives that he could not keep track of them all. Now, this was back in unenlightened times when an emperor could marry as many times as he wished, and was rather encouraged to have a wife from each clan all at once; they weren't all dropping dead as soon as the child was born," he added to forestall the questions bubbling to a few of his more curious grandchildren's faces. "But the emperor was too proud to admit that his greed had outstripped his knowledge, and the sons and daughters of such a wealthy ruler were supposed to be raised in privilege and comfort, not around a father who kept forgetting their names. So he bundled up all the children, as soon as they were old enough to stand, and sent them to live with their mothers' clans. Perhaps this, in part, is the reason why he had so many in the first place." The grandfather winked at his wife, who rolled her eyes but continued to clean her automail with a solemn-eyed young helper passing her small tools and bolts as they listened.

"But the emperor was right to send them off, as far as his reasoning went. The children all had family that cared for them, even if it was aunts and uncles and grandparents instead of their mother and father. Their clan members were all very proud and protective of their prominent relatives, and educated them the best they could, so that the emperor might pick their clan's child for an heir.

"Now, at the time, most rulers would be succeeded by their eldest son, or eldest child, if they were enlightened enough to accept that girls could be as strong and clever as boys -" this part of the explanation was interrupted by some prominent hooting from granddaughters and grandsons alike, and a small but very satisfied smile on the grandmother's face "- but the emperor didn't rightly remember if Wei Lin was older or younger than Kao Bu Fo, so he decided not to worry with age when he picked his heir." The grandfather waved his hand as if to dismiss the confused web of primogeniture like a fly. "He would come up with a test, a most difficult challenge for any of his children to try, and whoever came up with the best solution would be emperor or empress after him." Here the grandfather paused, once again playing the part of a proud ruler deep in thought. "He just didn't know what test he would set for them, so every time someone asked what the children would have to do to prove themselves, he simply said 'we shall see' and put off coming up with a test."

"So when you tell Mom 'we shall see,' does that mean you don't know? Or do you only say it to put off doing what Grandmother asked you to?" a listener with deceptively sleepy dark eyes piped up.

"The emperor was kind enough not to cut insouciant backtalkers out of the will. I will be good enough to follow his example today." The grandfather stuck out his tongue at the interruption, and his granddaughter stuck hers out right back, both happy to play up their dramatics for the audience of siblings and cousins. She had not only inherited the storyteller's eyes, after all.

"But the emperor thought, and pondered, and considered, and mused, and thought some more about what perfect test he could create for his children so that he could know for sure that he was leaving Xing in good hands, and in the meantime, he had grown very old. He had caught a slow but serious disease that the very, very old and very, very young are prone to, and his back and knees hurt and his nose dripped for no reason in the morning and he couldn't see well enough to read the imperial papers he had to sign. So, now that he feared that it was almost too late, he gathered all his many children and announced his test: the one he would make his heir would be the one who could find a way to prevent death. If one of his children did find immortality, perhaps he could put off his own death, which he was afraid would sneak up on him as unpleasantly as old age had." The grandfather might be spry for his years, but he had a few things in common with the emperor now. Still, he could hardly complain about the luxury of growing old.

"Unfortunately, death doesn't always wait to follow age. Fewer of his children had returned to their father's palace than he had sent out, though the emperor didn't notice right away. One of his sons had died in a hunting accident, and another daughter died from illness. Upon seeing how many children remained, some of his sons and daughters despaired of ever winning such an impossible challenge against such odds. Others looked at their own half brothers and sisters and saw rivals to… not find immortality, shall we say." The grandfather tilted his head, aware that a few of his own children considered their babies too young for this sort of tale, but it was history. History and fairytales were allowed to be unpleasant. "Remember, the emperor's children had been raised apart, taught to see themselves as part of their mother's clan, not as part of a bigger family with the imperial children of rival clans. Someone, and no one is sure who, started trying to arrange more accidents and illnesses, and because the children didn't know or trust one another well enough to band together and flush out the killer, they started trying to poison or sabotage everyone else too in retaliation. Even the children who didn't really want the throne had to learn to defend themselves, and everyone who could kept bodyguards to keep them safe from assassins. It got bad enough that certain clans would attack one another on sight, accusing this family or that of killing imperial children. The emperor banned such open conflict from the palace, but it was clear that the clans would keep fighting and spilling blood over the heir's quest, so he very strongly suggested that he already had his best scholars poring through every book and scroll in the capital and researching every alkhestrical avenue they could think of in the palace, so perhaps the secret to immortality laid out in the provinces, or better yet, out of the country. If his children wanted to kill one another off instead of solving death, he did not want to watch them do it."

"The emperor was a coward," the grandmother pronounced with the finality of rasping metal. Her automail arm was cleaned up to the elbow, but she wouldn't let the grandchildren around the joint or the pin that slid the length of her forearm in the middle of the triceps, instead switching out a wrench for a cleaning rag for her port. She would do most of the wiping down herself, but she would allow her eldest grandson to check for any unseen spots. It was hard to get at the back of the port these days, and he was always so assiduous about the responsibility he'd earned.

Her husband met her eyes, a mix of pride and guilt flickering quickly over his features at the truth she would have been too politic to speak so many years ago. "Yes, he was. He meant well, but it was foolish to tear his family apart and expect them to succeed, and even worse to not try to stop the fighting in any meaningful way. He wanted to give Xing a wise emperor, and was lucky to leave a living one. He began to think that his immortality was the only way that the country could survive the infighting, but if he had taken steps to make peace between his children, perhaps he would have had more wisdom and less greed in his court.

"At least, by sending them back away, the emperor kept them from open war, though some of the clans began to plot and raise armies, leaving the poorer clans with nothing but desperation. They were among the first to send their imperial daughters and sons out to other nations, for protection as much as to try to discover immortality. The curious middle son of a fairly prosperous clan - the twelfth child of the emperor, as best as these things were kept track of - was the one to go out and finally come back with a solution for the old emperor's challenge, but he didn't do it on his own. Deep in foreign lands where he could be arrested just for trying to get a decent meal, he met his younger sister from a different clan, a poor clan, but his family nonetheless, even if they hadn't been raised to see it. If she hadn't taken pity on him, neither of them would have likely survived to find their immortal elixir." There was more to that story, but it was a tale for another day, when the teller could be more certain that his listeners would not start their own quests for immortality.

"It didn't save the old emperor, and wasn't going to keep his heir alive forever, either, but what there was of it extended both their lives, and allowed the old emperor to talk to this son he'd made his heir, and the daughter who had become the boy's favorite sister, even though they had been raised as enemies. The emperor told his heir to come up with a better test, so that his children would not try to kill one another in their turn.

"Now, the new emperor, upon succeeding his father, decided that the first problem was that he and all his brothers and sisters had seen themselves as part of a clan and not part of Xing. His children would know that all of Xing was family, not just their mother's people. Now, since he had already found the bravest, humblest, prettiest, and most wonderful girl in the world and didn't want her bowing and scraping to 'superior' wives just because they were daughters of clan heads, he decided to just marry her and only take advisors from all the different clans instead of more wives." The grandmother looked away, her pale face turning red from the neck up, but it could technically have just been hiding the pain at the jolt of reattaching nerves as she pulled her automail home.

"Those advisors were furious about his disregard for tradition, though. When an emperor had a wife from every clan, every clan had a chance to raise the next emperor. With only one wife, only the Yao clan would have that honor, they said, and the new emperor asked why that would stop his children from visiting all the clans in turn. They would be Xingese first, and Yao only as much as anyone whose father hailed from the clan would be." He shrugged expansively, glossing over many, many arguments that had come to the threat of violence, and a secret campaign to make the advisors certain that only the empress could keep her eccentric husband in line. She hadn't been completely convinced of her power, but the important part was that the advisors believed it.

"But, as you know, there are nearly thirty clans, even when some like the Yao and Chan clans have all but combined, and the empress, as wonderful as she is, did not want to have thirty babies." The grandmother broke into a sudden choking fit, despite her attempts to remain quiet and composed. "So then the advisors began to argue about which clan would host which of the seven imperial children we did get and how long they would stay. The empress insisted that they would not leave her until they were at least four, and would return to court every year for the spring. The emperor agreed, though he insisted that they wait until age five, and then after every spring, the children would spend the next year with a different clan. Each child would stay with a separate clan for the year, and while they would get to connect with their hosts, they would also spend time with their brothers and sisters and compare what they had learned in different regions. To keep the children safe and further mollify the advisors, each imperial prince and princess would be appointed a bodyguard from a clan that they might not otherwise stay with until well after their thirtieth birthday. The emperor was very keen on good bodyguards, after all." There was another shameless wink at the grandmother, and there was no denying her blush this time.

"The new emperor had listened to his father, and decided that his test for his heir would fit in with their travels. After every winter, when his children returned to court for the spring, he would ask them for the wisdom they had learned from the clans that they had stayed with, and once they had visited all the clans, he would ask them what they planned to do if they were not the heir. The wisest of his children would be the one he named the next emperor or empress after him.

"So the first one to visit all the regions of the country was his eldest daughter. When he asked her what she wanted to do now that she no longer had to travel each year, she admitted that she did not remember much of the first few clans she had stayed with, and she would like to visit the countryside in spring. He granted her his blessing, praised her thoroughness, and let her keep traveling and learning the regions of Xing.

"The second one to complete his journey was the oldest son. When the emperor asked him about his plans, the son admitted that he wanted to settle down and raise a family in one place, so that he and his wife could provide their children with a stable home. The emperor granted his blessing, praised his son's dependability, and saw him settle in the capital, where he and the empress could visit their firstborn grandchildren frequently.

"The third person to have seen the ways of all the clans of Xing was his second daughter, and when he asked her what she wished to do, the second daughter reminded him that the last clan she had stayed with had been the Chans, and the husband of the head of that clan was not Xingese by birth. She wanted to explore beyond Xing, and see all the countries that Master Alphonse had visited. The emperor gave her his blessing, praised her curiosity, and sent her to become a diplomatic attache to study the ways of life even beyond her country.

"The fourth child to finish his quest was his second son, who had been the least eager to leave the capital each year as spring turned to summer. 'I miss my sisters and brother,' the middle child admitted, and asked leave to accompany the youngest three about their remaining journeys, and stay with his oldest two siblings when he could. His father the emperor granted his blessing, so long as his siblings would, praised his loyalty, and let him stay as a bodyguard and babysitter for his growing family.

"Then it was the third daughter's turn to make her own way, and she asked the emperor in turn what he thought she should do. She wanted to be of help, but wasn't sure what the best way to go about it would be, having seen her older siblings turn their desires to useful ends, but not as certain of what she wanted for herself. The emperor praised her dutiful heart, but did not have a plan for her right away. In the meantime, she settled in the capital, working for the court like her older brother.

"The fourth daughter returned from her final journey, dropped a tome of notes onto the emperor's lap, and insisted that he immediately allow her to talk some sense into whatever ossified relics he had the nerve to call his advisors. The emperor laughed, praised her innovative spirit, and gave her his blessing to argue with all the members of the court she wished to as she campaigned for better conditions in the southern provinces.

"And this year, when the youngest daughter should have returned, the emperor instead received a letter from the last clan that he had sent his children to live with. After all this, after he had been true to his word for over forty years, after all the time he had sacrificed away from his children, after all the trust he had put in them, their bodyguards, and the clans that raised them, now he is down to six choices for his heir. For his youngest has written him that she never intends to leave her husband's clan now that they've made it to the paradise he promised her when they were small."

"You must praise her for her stubbornness, for in the end our youngest daughter is the most like you," the grandmother said, only a hint of mischief in her voice. She was still the ever-diplomatic empress, but after five decades at Ling Yao's side, a little of his puckish sense of humor was bound to rub off on Ranfan.

And honestly, he might admit to a touch of the same romanticism that entrenched Laila among the Wens with the boy who had been assigned her bodyguard. Only a touch.

"And that is why the whole imperial clan is going to her for the spring," the grandfather concluded. "But, I must ask my most important advisors: which child would you name as heir?" Ling queried his grandchildren. "What would you say is closest to wisdom? Thoroughness, stability, curiosity, loyalty, duty, or innovation?"

"I'd say a stable empire is best," the eldest grandson ventured loyally for his father.

"But without innovation it would be stuck in the dark ages," the sleepy-eyed granddaughter argued.

"That's why we need thorough research," another suggested.

"But that can take time the people don't have. That's why it's important to have someone who will ask them what they want."

"Without a willingness to explore, they won't even know if they want something different." His older grandchildren were proving themselves able to argue in as many circles as the ossified relics that Ran Lu had insulted.

"So we need an emperor who knows what he and his people want, but is willing to sacrifice his temporary happiness to make things better long term."

"Can't they all help?" Fuu's youngest piped up, and that was the answer that Ling had been looking for.

The older children shifted, half ready to dismiss their baby cousin without entertaining her notion, but their grandparents' quiet encouragement set the cat among the pigeons. "Well… maybe… but Mother is the oldest, so she should have the title, even if it's only for show," Xiaobo's daughter allowed. This set off a new round of arguments, but if it would be just as hard to pick his heir as it had been to become his father's, at least the next generation would be campaigning by way of words rather than weapons. They might even get along afterwards.

And that would be Ling Yao's immortality.


End file.
